


Sacrifices

by BetweenTheClouds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Gen, questionable morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenTheClouds/pseuds/BetweenTheClouds
Summary: George would do anything to have Fred back. Ron watches as his brother falls apart. Warning: not the typical grieving story. Canon up until the Battle of Hogwarts.
Relationships: Fred Weasley & George Weasley, George Weasley & Ron Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	Sacrifices

George was different after the war. He smiled less, joked less, laughed less. He would go off somewhere and come back with red eyes. It pissed Ron off. He was the one who risked his life alongside Harry and Hermione against You Know Who for seven years, and even he didn’t seem as lost as his older brother. 

Maybe it was because Ron finally felt like he had carved himself a place in the world. At the impressive age of eighteen, he was on a Chocolate Frog card and would forever be remembered as one of the key people to take down the darkest wizard of his generation. He had come a long way from the eleven year old boy on the Hogwarts Express. He still remembered lamenting to Harry that he was the least remarkable out of five brothers. Honestly, he noted with bitterness, so much of that insecurity was caused by Fred and George. 

They had taken the mickey out of him his entire life. For some reason, Ron was their favourite target. Bill and Charlie were exempt because of their age (and probably because they could have beaten the twins to a pulp). Ginny was teased when she was younger, but she gained the twins’ acceptance as she took tips from them about how to tease her brother.

Ron knew he should hold his family close after everything he had seen in the war. Sometimes, he could still hear Dennis Creevy’s screams as he held his lifeless brother amid the rubble. And he knew he should feel lucky. But he couldn’t help but want to hide out in his room instead of joining the family downstairs. Just like he had been doing for the past eighteen years. 

Yet, somehow, he couldn’t escape George. He would catch George staring at him from across the dinner table and stopping on the landing in front of his room as Ron walked past. Ron wondered if he had pulled a Professor Binns and became a ghost without realizing it. There was just so much pain in George’s eyes every time he saw Ron, and Ron couldn’t make sense of it. 

At least Fred was the same. His jokes about Ron landing Hermione arrived like clockwork. Hermione must have been Confunded during the war to even consider dating him, she would be able to do Ron’s auror training for him, she would have been as old as Dumbledore if she had waited for Ron to make the first move… Ron had heard them all. George was usually at Fred’s side and he would laugh along and make his own comments. Although not, Ron began to notice, with the same enthusiasm as before the war.

Well, Fred changed a little. But Ron didn’t mind these changes as much. He was much more affectionate now, ruffling Ron’s hair when he entered the kitchen for breakfast and beaming at Ron’s blossoming relationship with Hermione in between jokes. He would invite his little brother to play Quidditch more often, and he would actually compliment him on good saves (though his jokes when Ron missed the Quaffle were just as frequent as ever). Ron guessed the explosion in Hogwarts that scarred Fred’s right arm woke him up to the danger they were all in, and it made him thankful to have his family in one piece. Minus George’s ear, of course. Ron didn’t think he would ever be close to the twins, but he wanted to let go of the past and forge better relationships with his family. He resolved to try harder to get along with his brothers. 

This resolve fell apart one morning in July. Ron was playing chess with Harry in the living room and the twins were visiting. They were ostensibly coming up with new products for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but they spent more time critiquing Ron’s chess moves. He tried to ignore them, knowing he could beat them blindfolded. But then the critiques strayed from chess and they started making jokes about his entire life. Ron never knew why he snapped on that particular day. He supposed everybody had their breaking point. 

He stood up abruptly, knocking the chessboard and pieces all over the floor. The white queen shrieked and a few pawns grumbled. “Don’t you two ever get tired of making my life a living hell?” he shouted at them. Harry looked uncomfortable. He mumbled about going to find Ginny, but he stayed seated, looking from one brother to the next. “How sad do your lives have to be to go after mine? I’m sorry that Mum and Dad are prouder than me because I was made a prefect and got more OWLs than you two put together! And because I had way more accomplishments during the war! Where are your Chocolate Frog cards, huh?” The shocked looks on Fred and George’s faces just incensed Ron further. “Honestly, you would think you’d have gotten tired of this after eighteen years. Poor, bumbling Ron, never as smart or cool or charismatic as his brothers! And did you two ever let me forget it? Not even for a day!” His voice rose with each sentence, and he felt his face getting hotter. “You know what?” he spat out, fists clenched at his sides. “If it wasn’t for Harry and Hermione, I would’ve left this fucking family years ago!”

Fred’s face fell and he opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t seem to produce words. Beside him, George had gotten so pale he almost blended into the grey wall behind him. His blue eyes were as wide as they could go, and they appeared to be filled with tears. “Perce…” he whispered, gripping onto the table in front of him. “Please don’t say that…”

But Ron was done talking. With a final glare at his brothers, he turned and left the room, Harry trailing behind him. He stomped up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door the second he and Harry were inside. 

He stayed in his room for the rest of the day. Harry left around two in the afternoon, and dinner was around seven. At almost eight, Ron heard a knock on his door. He opened it a crack and shot his head out. It was George. “Coming for another go?” he snapped.

George held onto the door before Ron could slam it. He looked so miserable. “Please, Ron,” he whispered. “Please. Can I come in? There’s stuff I need to say to you.” Ron let out a huff and opened the door wider, letting George through. He followed Ron to his bed and sat down beside him.

“I know I haven’t been a good brother to you,” he poured out. “We- I- played pranks on you ever since we learned how to walk. And I never cared about your interests, never asked you how you were holding up, never let you come along with me and Fred. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for not congratulating you on becoming a prefect, and for bewitching your Head Boy badge to Bighead Boy. I know how proud you were of that badge, and I could never be happy for you.” George was openly crying now, and he grasped Ron’s hands. “Do you… Do you think you could forgive me? For everything?”

To say Ron was taken aback would be an understatement. He blinked at his big brother a few times, then awkwardly patted his hands. “I- I think so. I want us to become closer too. It’ll take a lot of work though.” He looked at George quizzically. He had a sense that George wasn’t entirely in the moment. But then again, he always looked like that around Ron these days. 

After realizing something, Ron let out a little smirk. “But I was never Head Boy. I wasn’t around for my seventh year, remember? You must be thinking of somebody else.”

Instead of lightening the mood like Ron had hoped, George only cried harder. Sobs wracked his body as Ron held him, giving him uncomfortable pats on the back every now and then. “Oh Ron,” he sobbed, “What have I done?”

* * *

As they moved further into July, Ron seriously began to wonder if George was entirely sane. He was acting as if he had suffered a great loss, but Ron couldn’t think of anybody that would cause George to be this distraught. Maybe a secret lover? No, George couldn’t keep a secret from Fred, and Fred seemed to be just as puzzled with his twin’s behaviour as the rest of the family. Or maybe George had PTSD from the war. That would make sense.

Except Ron wasn’t sure if PTSD altered people’s memories. The more he hung around George, the more he noticed how George’s memories didn’t quite line up with the other Weasleys’. He would tell stories and make little offhand comments that didn’t really make sense.

One day all the Weasleys were together at The Burrow, and George was in a particularly upbeat mood, sharing stories with his brothers. At one point he turned to Bill and Charlie, and started to laugh uncontrollably. “Do you remember that summer you two came back from Hogwarts? After your third year, Charlie? And me and Fred came up with the idea to fill your rooms with stuff from Zonko’s joke shop?” He took a break in his storytelling to laugh some more. “You couldn’t even get past the door! It took us all afternoon. We even got Percy to join in. Who knew he had such a devious side?” His smile faded as he looked around at his family’s blank looks after he mentioned a Percy.

Ginny was the first to pipe up. “Who’s Percy?” she asked.

“I think he was a second cousin who came to visit us that one summer,” Molly replied vaguely. She didn’t notice the look of pure pain on George’s face, but Ron did. 

“I think it was just Fred and George who pranked us that time,” Bill said quietly. He looked at George with concern.

Arthur clapped his hands excitedly. “Remember the first time Harry came to The Burrow? And you boys took my Ford Anglia-” Before he could get any further, George stood up and walked upstairs without a word. The Weasleys exchanged nervous glances. Fred followed him, but he came back downstairs after a few minutes. George did not let Fred into their room. And he did not come back down until the next day. 

* * *

If Ron thought George was a little unhinged before, he was thoroughly convinced on August 22nd. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Harry, Hermione, and Fred when George came into the room, rubbing his eyes blearily. “What kind of cake are you going to make today, Mum?” he asked Molly as she prepared breakfast. 

“Why would I make a cake today?” Molly asked. “Ginny’s birthday already passed. Have you forgotten already? You got her enough from your shop to last a lifetime!” Ron and the others laughed, but George just looked distressed. 

“You really don’t know?” he whispered. “Nothing feels different?”

“No.” Molly held her palm to George’s forehead, her brow creasing. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself ever since… Well, ever since the war. Is there something you want to tell me?”

George just shook his head. He looked like he was going to cry again. “Please Mum, could you make a cake today? It’s really important to me. And I think it should be carrot.”

This worried Ron. George didn’t even like carrot. What was going on?

He wasn’t the only one with questions. As soon as George sat next to Fred, Fred hissed, “What are you doing?”

George glared at his twin. “I’m doing this because I need you, okay? So just let it go.”

As far as Ron was concerned, this only created more questions. 

When cake was served after dinner that night, George took his piece and went outside. He mumbled that he wanted to be left alone, so the Weasleys granted his wish. Ginny only came out after midnight with a blanket because she didn’t want him to get cold. She came back inside with the blanket still in hand, shaking her head. Fred swore and kicked a chair leg. 

* * *

A few weeks after the cake incident, Luna came over for a visit with her father. They sat around Xenophilius Lovegood as he recited tales and legends. Ron snuggled into Hermione and Harry sat on his other side with Ginny. Somehow the subject got onto Dark magic. Ron thought he had had enough legends of Dark magic to last a lifetime, but Xenophilius was such a good storyteller he let it go. 

“Then there’s the darkest magic of all,” Xenophilius said, beginning his last tale of the night. “This legend has the fewest believers, but we must go in with open minds. There is only one way to bring somebody back from the dead. No, not the Resurrection Stone. Something far more powerful.”

“But I thought it was impossible to bring somebody back from the dead?” Harry interrupted, looking shocked.

“That is the common belief, yes,” Xenophilius continued. “However, some believe that this feat can be accomplished. With every great magical feat, there needs to be a sacrifice. To bring somebody back from the dead, one would need to sacrifice another person. It cannot be just any person; it has to be a person the spell-caster also loves very much. This love has to be powerful enough to cast the spell, which is possibly the most difficult spell to be cast in the history of magic.”

Beside him, Hermione shifted. “I’m sure it is,” she muttered. 

Fred spoke from across the room. “So you would need to kill one person to bring the other back to life?”

“Not kill, no.” Xenophilius shook his head. “The person being sacrificed would be completely erased from existence. If the spell is successful, that person would never have been born, and thus, would never be missed.” He paused for effect. “Of course, the person casting the spell would not have forgotten that person’s existence. And that is the true sacrifice. They will be able to bring the one they love most back from the dead, but they will forever be haunted by the guilt of erasing another person’s life. And it is a heavy burden to be the only one grieving for a person that everybody else has forgotten.”

“The spell-caster must love the person they’re bringing back very much, if they’re willing to sacrifice all of that,” Luna piped up. 

Hermione could remain silent no longer. “This is absolutely ridiculous!” she cried out. “This is the most insane story I’ve ever heard. And I thought the Crumple Horned Snorkack was bad! Mr. Lovegood, you can’t possibly believe this?”

But Ron paid no attention to Hermione. He looked across the room at George. George did not meet his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story last year on FFN, and I decided to post it here as well. I'm really liking it here so far on AO3!
> 
> Original notes on story from FFN: I thought this would be an interesting concept to explore. I don't actually believe George would ever do this if he could. But I wanted to touch on the Weasleys' many problems because there's so much material there!
> 
> Additional notes: I wrote this all out in a few hours in the middle of the night, so some of my thoughts might be jumbled on top of the deliberate confusion I tried to create. I hope you enjoy!


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